


In the Shape of a Heart

by gloatingraccoon



Series: Paid In Full [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Forgiveness, Introspection, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Reconciliation, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloatingraccoon/pseuds/gloatingraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Eridan Ampora and you don't think you deserve the new life you have been given after the game. But you know one thing for sure, you've been waiting for Feferi Peixes to look at you just like this for all your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shape of a Heart

“Eridan.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of your name on Feferi’s lips. You never heard it like that before, never heard her voice become so soft and uncertain, almost shy. You never saw that look in her eyes, halflidded and fogged up, and so intense, as if she were seeing you for the first time – and somehow, some way, it really is.

You’re still Eridan Ampora, but so much time has passed, so many things have changed from the game, from that moment of fury and madness that tore the both of you apart and that was entirely your fault. Nothing will ever erase what happened, but you have been given a new life, a second chance and you did your best to be worthy of it, to make amends, to pay the price of your guilt as much as you can. You’re still Eridan Ampora, and yet you’re something new, something else that has been rebuilt from ashes. And not by you alone. And you have no idea what she’s really seeing right now, apart from your dumb, flushed face and your open mouth, but all you know is that you’ve wanted her to look at you just like that for all your life.

Her hands move up, disentangling from yours, and lightly cup your face. Her fingers feel cold and trembling, yet soft and smooth, and so gentle as she caresses the lines of your cheekbones, your jaw, your chin, her thumbs tracing circles over your cheeks. You realize distantly that your hands are still curled up between the two of you, on your knees, and that you could do something with them, something such as taking her hands in turn, or cupping her face to return her caresses, but you can’t move. You’re terrified that if you just as much breathe this moment is going to break and disappear, and this moment, this strangled, still closeness, whatever that is exactly, is the most precious thing you have right now.

The shadows in her throat move as she swallows, and as she leans in, the gentle hold of her hands barely tilting your face towards her, suddenly you understand. Suddenly you know.

Her lips brush yours, pecking softly, and everything you can do is close your eyes and surrender.

You’re kissing her. You’re kissing Feferi Peixes, your childhood friend, your ex-moirail. The woman you’ve loved all your life, the woman you’ve killed, the woman you owe your new life to, the woman you still don’t think you deserve to be forgiven from. You’re kissing Feferi, and everything about her feels so familiar and yet so new. Soft, full lips, shaped like a heart, needy and hesitant, gently, slowly caressing yours as if everything she wanted was taste and closeness, getting to know you, to discover you, and you’re way too shocked and emotionally wrecked at first at the very idea of what’s happening that all you can do is move your lips awkwardly against hers. It’s far from the epic, passionate, idealized first kiss you played in your imagination so many times, and you really have no idea what you’re doing. Your very first kiss was with Vriska, back when she was your kismesis, but you were only six sweeps old and it was sloppy and rough and terribly awkward. Now that you’re nine sweeps, Sollux is your kismesis, and you know exactly what you like and what he likes when you kiss and bite him and play with his tongue. But you don’t know what Feferi likes, and she’s not your kismesis. She is your matesprit.

Your matesprit.

The thought finally sinks in, and it melts like liquid fire in your chest. Only now you can move, your shaking fingers cupping her face in turn, and the tender shiver blooming under her skin at your touch, her earfins vibrating, is enough to take your breath away.

“Fef,” you whisper on her lips, your voice shaking, as if you had no other way to express the chaos that’s shattering both your heart and your mind, and your lips linger on hers, parting just enough to wrap and taste them, like an invitation. Her little, short gasp makes you worry you’re rushing things, but then her fingers sink into your hair to hold you close, and you have no worry, no thoughts left, just warmth.

“Eri,” she sighs on your lips, and her voice becomes a shiver rolling straight down your spine. Her lips part to welcome yours and they fit each other so perfectly, and the shiver grows stronger when for the first time you can feel the tip of her tongue gingerly tasting your bottom lip, cool and slick and so tempting. You muffle a sigh, and it’s as if only now you fully realize how much you longed for this, how much you want to hear her say your name like that, how much you desire her.

You’re terrified you’re going to screw this up, that any time you’re going to get something wrong and she’s going to pull away and go back to her room, but she does not, not even when you eagerly open your mouth to her and return her caresses, softly licking her lips, her tongue, her fangs, her perfect little fangs, sharp and on two rows just like yours. She does not pull away, instead she makes a little noise on the back of her throat, somewhere between a squeak and a soft keen, something that tastes like delight and you definitely want to hear again. Her hands ball into fists in your hair and she shifts, trying to get closer to you, and you wrap your arms around her shoulders to help her, but she surprises you as she gets up on her knees and lets one slide past your legs, so that she can sit in your lap, straddling your hips. You stiffen and sigh softly against her mouth at that flood of new sensations, her body pressed so close and completely relaxed in your arms, wanting to be with you just the way you’ve wanted to all your life. You can feel tense muscles on the inside of her legs and the tender heat waiting there, and damn you’re so aroused right now that despite all the clothing between you, you worry that she’s going to notice, you worry that you’re going to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable or outright disgust her or screw everything up some other way, because that’s usually what you do. But she just stays there with you, holding you, kissing you, loving your contact and your closeness just like you do, and the simple thought drives you crazy. You leave her adorable, needy mouth to plant kisses all over her face, while your hands sink into her hair, memorizing the curve of her back and waist. She gasps as your lips reach her earfin, softly fluttering in response, then you nudge her face aside to expose her neck gills, and kiss them tentatively, tasting salt in your mouth. You’re gentler than what Sollux did with you, avoiding teeth and gingerly running your tongue along the tight, sensitive slits, yet she seems to be even more receptive than you to that and her body squirms in your arms, whimpering. She leans over you and moves your scarf aside to return your gesture, planting soft kisses over your own neck gills, and her sweet touch and the way her breath hitches and flutters on your sensitive skin make you shiver all over. She pulls away slightly to look at you, and the momentary disappointment at the lack of contact melts right away when you meet her eyes, needy and cloudy and overwhelmed with desire.

“Caress me,” she whispers breathlessly, and as she takes your hands to guide them, you need nothing more. You look at her, transfixed, and slowly, tentatively run your hands over her slender, toned body, over the curves of her waist, hips and thighs, then going back up, over her abdomen and ribs and chest, until you can feel her breathing accelerate under your touch and cup the tender form of her breasts through the fabric. You swallow as she closes her eyes and presses her hands over yours, worried that she’s just going to pull them away and tell you no, stop, too much, too fast, but she does not, because she told you to, she wants you to and you know it and you can’t help but obliging. You have no idea what you’re doing, really, since the only person you’ve ever been intimate with is Sollux, and you’re kind of awkwardly palming and kneading her breasts like a meowbeast, but she guides your touch gently, and you have no idea what it is about it, if it’s the way she feels so soft and yet strong underneath, the feeling of her breathing and her blood pusher pounding under your hands, or simply seeing how she enjoys this, but you absolutely love it. You swallow as she lets go of your hands to undo the laces of her top, exposing more of her skin and the lovely freckles covering her, and your tingly fingers help her move the fabric aside.

And right then is when you see it, and it takes your breath away, and all of your body falls cold and limp.

Right in front of you, right between the curves of her breasts, held by a tyrian satin bra, a jagged scar like a tattered rose mars her skin, and you’re sure there’s a twin one on her back. Like something went right through. You have no idea why you weren’t thinking about it, why you were so shocked of seeing it, really, while you can see every day the scar of your own death on your body cutting you side to side.

You swallow as you look at her and she looks at you and you realize she’s shaking in your arms. Suddenly everything you want to do is run away, run away from everything and go back to hiding and trying to disappear and despising yourself for being too hopeful and cowardly to end your own existance. But you don’t. You can’t.

You’re done with running away.

Shaking just like her, you run your fingers over her skin, from her collarbone down to her cleavage, feeling exactly how the silky softness turns thin and jagged over the scar. Your throat clenches shut and you want to cry, you desperately want to cry to vent the horror of that truth, of what you did, but you can’t, it’s like you cried all of your tears in sweeps past, when you were trapped alone in the dream bubbles with nothing but your own guilt and your worst nightmares to keep you company. It’s all much too real now. She holds her breath and caresses your face, and there is so much you want to say, but no words seem to work, until her hand moves on the back of your neck to draw you closer, leading you to lay your head against her chest. Her scent fills your nostrils, and you don’t really know how she smells like, apart from sweat and her flowery perfume and maybe the disinfectants from the pool, but you love it - because it’s her smell, she’s here, with you, wanting to be with you, and she’s alive.

“I love you, Fef,” you can barely whisper, and you lean in to kiss the swell of her breasts, and the scar itself. It feels like her blood pusher is pumping against your lips.

“I love you, Eri,” she replies with no hesitation, running her fingers through your hair and leaning in to kiss the top of your head.

For the rest of the night you just lie like that, cuddled on the couch, cradling each other and sharing the occasional kiss or caress, but nothing more. For tonight this closeness, this balance, this feeling of being broken and yet whole again, is enough.


End file.
